


Panta Rhei

by Yangs Sunglasses (Nilenium)



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Season/Series 04, introspective, past Tommy/Greta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nilenium/pseuds/Yangs%20Sunglasses
Summary: Everything flows.Tommy’s thoughts during the scene by the canal in s4e3.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	Panta Rhei

Tommy always thought his memory was good. He had a knack for numbers, he never forgot faces, he could even recite some poems he’d memorized back in school. Despite having his head knocked around a few times, no lasting damage was ever done, or so he assumed. Only very recently it came to his attention just how fucking unreliable human memory could truly be.

He thought he forgot, he didn’t even realize he forgot, because he just never thought about it (her), but then the communist woman spoke her name and it was like she could summon the dead, because it all came back to him in a rush, taking his breath away, and he was hit with the sense of betrayal, because how could he have forgotten? He’d sat with her, watching her suffer and die slowly, die a small, meaningless death without having accomplished anything at all when she’d wanted to do _so much_ , and he’d made her a promise—that he’d forgotten too.

Tommy walked up to the edge of the stone dock and looked around. It hadn’t changed much since before the war. Some bushes grew on the other side of the canal, but the trees were the same. The boats were moored in their usual spots at the dock and the crisp air still smelled of the lush vegetation.

It had been years, but it felt like he’d never actually left. It was like a glimpse into another life, of another man named Tommy Shelby who never went to war.

And if he concentrated enough, he could see her again – there she was, coming out of the thin mist, right before his eyes – Greta and her playful little smile, her sharp wit and gentle touch. That Greta, with her sunny disposition and impossible dreams deserved better than to be forgotten.

But remembering had only caused him more pain than it was worth enduring so the younger Tommy had locked the memories tight, like they were his precious, secret treasure and then gone to fight the war, and maybe it was because he’d still held some notion of high ideals back then, but more so that he’d desperately needed something to throw himself into, mind, body and soul, something so all-consuming that there would be no place in his thoughts for anything else, not this place by the canal, nor the girl he used to meet here.

It worked maybe a little too well—the fire of war burned all sentimental foolishness out of him and replaced old nightmares with new, even worse ones. And those memories remained hidden in their little jewelry box until he pulled them out, so they were still sharp and focused, like old but well-preserved photographs, untouched by the ravages of time.

And surprisingly, viewing them didn’t hurt, not anymore. All he felt was a distant sort of fondness—the memories, exactly like the photographs, had no colour anymore. He wasn’t sure what to think of that. It was a relief, not to suffer anymore by just thinking of her. Finally, he could remember her, not as she’d been in those last, desolate moments of agony, but all the good times they’d shared, their walks by the canal, holding hands as they’d talked and made plans for a future that never came to pass.

Time really heals old wounds, doesn’t it, but as much as it relieved him, it also scared him, because if that happened with Greta, then it could also happen to his memories of Grace and he didn’t want to forget anything about her. And yet, even the pain of that fresher loss was now only a dull, distant ache. That wound had long since stopped bleeding and another scar had already formed on his heart.

Tommy looked down into the canal. The water was running smoothly, the current tugging on the boats, but not strong enough to take them along. If he stepped into it, it would never be the same water as back then. That water was gone with the unstoppable flow, it was now part of the sea, and the water in the canal was new, constantly replenished from the seemingly unending supply. This day it was clear and glittering in the sun – a good omen.

Tommy raised his eyes again with a lighter heart.

“Are we waiting for someone? Tommy, I’m fucking freezing here,” Lizzie complained from behind him, where she stayed under the arch of the passage.

“We used to come here,” he began and told her everything. Not in too much detail, but everything that really mattered.

He’d never told anyone about that before, not even Grace. Any attempts his family had made to talk to him about it had been met with stony silence. The name Greta had become a taboo around him, and then they’d gone to war and no one ever brought it up anymore.

But this day, he looked at Lizzie, as she strode into his office without knocking, casually swiping a cigarette from his desk while she filled him in on the goings on in the shop, how Finn was going to become a man, his littlest brother grown up, such a normal conversation between them, and then he was struck by the sudden urge to tell _her_. No one else.

Tommy turned away from the canal, flicked the burnt fag to the ground and came to stand in front of her, so close their knees were touching. “Wanted to come here with you,” he confessed, but that wasn’t all. Showing her this place was important, but above all else, he needed to make it mean something to her too.

He gently brushed back the lock on her temple, cupped her face between his hands, and leaned in.

The birds were chirping in the green bushes. The air smelled of early spring. Lizzie’s lips tasted warm and heady, like his cigarettes.

When he pulled back shortly, she blinked, looking up at him, then lowering her gaze as she collected herself. She gave him a searching look. “Are you kissing her or me?” she asked matter-of-factly, her expression guarded, as if she was bracing herself for an incoming blow, lips quirked up with a touch of a self-irony.

He rubbed up and down her arms soothingly and looked her straight in the eye. “You,” he answered, because it was only the truth.

Lizzie was thinking it over, to decide whether to believe him or not, so Tommy kissed her again, hoping to convey to her what he couldn’t find words for. He caressed her soft lips without a hurry, savouring the sweetness and after a moment she relaxed under his touch, opening up to him. And then she was kissing him back with such ardour that he forgot all about taking it slow, the spark between them bursting into a fire they needed to quench right away. As he frantically touched her all over, Lizzie took his cap off so she could stroke the shaven back of his head in a way that made him shiver with pleasure and seek the place between her thighs. As if sharing one mind, they moved in tandem, hoisting her up and moving fabric out of the way and then he drove into her slick, perfect heat, burying himself completely as he held her close.

It felt like coming home.

Later, after they straightened up their clothes, he lit up a cigarette and another for her and told her of the new charity projects he planned—and that she was going to head them. He couldn’t think of a better person than Lizzie for the job.

“Why?” she asked, stopping him in his tracks when he wanted them to leave.

Tommy cast a quick look around and gave the only answer that made sense to him in this place.

“Because I promised someone I'd change the world.”

The young, idealistic Tommy Shelby that once loved and lost a girl was long gone. He never came back from the war, dead in the collapsed tunnel. But maybe enough of him remained in the Tommy that dug himself out and came back here with Lizzie.

Lizzie nodded to herself, then subtly shook her head as she took that in.

“You do realize, Tommy, we're all going fucking mad here,” she told him frankly.

“Yeah, I know. Come on.”

He took her hand in his own and led her away, Lizzie keeping in step next to him and in that moment, it seemed as if they were just an ordinary couple, walking together and holding hands after a secret tryst by the canal.

Lizzie was right, it was madness, but he didn’t really care.

Sometimes madness was required to just take that first step.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I've been polishing up this baby for the last 4 evenings and I think I can't do any better than this. I absolutely loved this scene on the show and I hope I did it justice.
> 
> Now I'm half-tempted to write it from Lizzie's POV because she was in a very different headspace during that. Hmmm...
> 
> Comments are welcome and until next time! Or you can visit me on tumblr @yangssunglasses. I'm new to the fandom and don't know anyone yet.


End file.
